Finding the Tool
by naybaybay
Summary: When a young boy walks into the LVPD with a letter for Warrick Brown, the team become concerned by its contents, but little do they know how worried they should really be.GSR and WCR!
1. Chapter 1

A blue 1970 Ford Cortina pulled up outside the main entrance of the LVPD headquarters at precisely 2:25 pm, Saturday, March 16th, 2008.

A man with serpent-like green eyes and a premature five o'clock shadow occupied the driver's seat. A four year old boy with Sandy coloured hair and a black blindfold that covered his blue eyes sat next to him, trembling with fright. The driver turned the key in the car's ignition to off and turned toward the other of the two males. His right hand untied the blindfold from the boy's head and let it slip gracefully to his ankles. His left hand reached into the glove compartment of the car and pulled out a brown envelope.

"Here", he grunted at the little boy, waving the envelope in front of his nose.

His thick Brooklyn accent did nothing to draw the attention of the child who continued staring at his lap, crying.

"Hey, look… kid would you look at me?" The boy finally looked up at the balding, plump, middle-aged man. The man smiled wryly down at the boy.

"Good, now, you remember what we talked about right? You're going to go in there and ask for who?"

The boy sniffed before giving his answer. "Rawick Bwown."

The man's smile widened. "That's right. And then you're going to give him this letter and wait. And then? You remember what you're going to tell those people right? All the things we talked about?"

The sandy haired pre-schooler nodded before the man spoke again. "And if you don't do exactly what I've told you, you remember what's going to happen right?"

The boy nodded again and gulped, tears springing to his eyes again.

"Alright, here", he handed the little boy the envelope. "Now go in there and do exactly as I've told you… and for God's sakes, stop crying."

The man reached over and opened the car door for the boy to get out.

The four year old slipped out of the car nervously before the man inside slammed the door behind him and drove away with great haste.

The small legs of the fair boy carried him tentatively to the front doors of the LVPD.

Jumping in surprise at the automatic doors opening before him, he jogged into the dark, air-conditioned foyer.

He waddled his way up toward the main desk, attracting a look, from only a bird, in a tree outside, through a high-up window.

Really, it's amazing how little attention people pay to a toddler in a crime lab.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh!" Judy jumped in surprise as she felt a hand tugging at the bottom her shirt.

The little boy looked up at her with his worried eyes

"Uh, hi… where did you come from?" She asked him awkwardly.

The little boy said nothing, just held up the envelope.

Judy took it from him hesitantly.

She read the name on the front and glanced at the boy again before reaching for her pager.

Warrick was sitting with Archie, analyzing video camera footage from the Tangiers in relation to a Homicide.

"So our punk drags the body out wrapped up in the bed sheet that was carrying his clients weed in when he went in?" Warrick asked Archie, amazed.

Archie smirked. "Looks like it – I guess for some people the thrill of the dare is even sweeter than the prize."

"When did cons decide that their trade was a sport to compete in and keep getting better and better?"

Archie shook his head. "I don't know but this guy deserves a bronze at least."

It was then that Warrick's pager beeped a little two note tune.

He reached for his belt and unclipped it, brining it to the tip of his nose.

"I gotta go; I'm needed at the front desk. Thanks Archie, you're my man."

"Anytime", Archie grinned as Warrick stood up and walked out of the room."

As Warrick approached the desk, he happened to glance to the left and see the little boy sitting on the waiting bench, swinging his legs. His brow furrowed as he looked at Judy.

"Hey Judy, what's with the squirt?" Judy was pale.

"Um, he bought this in for you – I'm sorry but I thought I oughta get a guard to open it first." Warrick became even more confused as he took the letter from Judy. "Safety first Judy; thanks."

Warrick read the letter and then became pale himself.

He shifted his gaze back to the boy and walked slowly over to him.

"Hey pal, I'm Warrick Brown, can you tell me your name?"

Warrick sat down quietly next to him.

The boy looked at him for several seconds before answering.

"Jake." "Jake who?" Warrick probed. "Jake Whiting."

Warrick nodded. "Ok, just hold on a second buddy alright?"

Jake nodded. Warrick got up and walked over to Judy at her desk.

"Judy, please call Child Services now and get a counselor down here now so that we can take this boy in for a confession."

Without waiting for Judy's reply, Warrick rushed to Grissom's office with the envelope still in his hand.

Warrick knocked on the door of Grissom's office and walked in when Grissom waved him in. Grissom finished the conversation he was having on the phone as Warrick sat down opposite him.

"Hello Warrick, what can I do for you?"

"Ah, Griss, I've got a situation."

"Is it about the Tangiers Case? Because we just got a positive I.D from the doorman."

Warrick shifted restlessly in his chair. "No it's not about that case – it's about this"

Warrick handed Grissom the letter and waited for Grissom to read it."

"Warrick where did you get this, where's the boy?"

"Kid brought it in, gave it to Judy, she had a guard check it out and then gave it to me."

"Does it mean anything to you - I mean more than it means to me."

"Well, what does it mean to you?"

Grissom raised his eyebrow and read the letter out loud.

"_See how much you can get out of the boy and if that's not enough for you, then here's a map to help you out_."

Warrick shrugged his shoulders.

Grissom breathed heavily – "It means this case has just moved to top priority."


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much for the comments; I'm really happy people are reading.

Hope you like this chapter!

Grissom watched through the Plexiglas as Sara sat in the confession room, opposite a counselor and Jake. Captain Brass stood behind her, his arms crossed in front of him.

"Jake, can you tell me how you got here?"

Sara asked, quietly, being careful not to spook him. Jake looked up at the counselor and she gave him a reassuring nod.

"A man brought me in his car."

"Do you know who the man was?" Jake shook his head fervently.

Sara nodded "Ok."

"What about your parents, can you tell me where they are?"

Jake shifted. "My daddy died."

Sara lifted her eyes. "When did your daddy die?"

Jake sighed. "When I was a baby – he was a soldya."

Sara's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"He died in the war?"

Jake nodded.

"What about your mom Jake, where is she?"

Jake's whole body stiffened when he was asked this question. Grissom and Sara both noticed this.

Sara looked into Jake's eyes softly. "Jake, I want you to know that you can tell me anything- whatever anyone else has said to you, it's not true."

"He hurt my mommy."

"Who, who did Jake? The man who drove you here?"

Jake nodded again.

Just then, Grissom walked quietly into the room and whispered something to Brass.

"Sara", he beckoned her.

Sara got up and walked over to him.

He held the door for her as they exited the room.

"What's up?" Sara asked him.

"That map that the letter came with had a marking over a place out west – Red Rock Canyon area."

"Yeah, I saw it."

"Well, some cops were sent out to scan the area, and they found a body – or at least they thought it was a body, couldn't get close enough to find out."

"So what happens now?"

"We go and check it out – wrap up your confession with the kid and I'll meet in you out at the Denali."

"Gil – you need to go home, you've pulled enough doubles this week."

"Yeah and it's worth it to be able to spend time with my wife."

Sara tried not to smile.

"And besides", Grissom continued. "This kid deserves to have his mom back – alive or otherwise."

An hour later Grissom and Sara were traipsing down the bank of Red Rock Canyon.

"Careful", Grissom warned as Sara's foot slipped on some loose dirt.

"Hey, look down, over there – that our body?"

"Looks like a deer."

Sara grimaced. "Yeah, after it's head's been cut off."

Grissom and Sara reached the flat land and jogged to where the body was. When they were a little over twenty feet away, they finally could make out what the figure was. It was indeed a human; a woman; with no head.

Grissom and Sara began breathing through their mouths as the smell of the already (with the help of the flies and the sun), decomposing body, hit their nostrils.

"So what do you think happened here?" Grissom asked Sara.

"Well, since I know you don't go by theories, I'll offer one knowing it won't make any difference anyway – from what the kid told me, I'm guessing our mystery guy and our Jane Doe had some sort of argument."

Grissom stared at the headless woman's corpse. "Yeah… talk about losing your head."


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all so much for the comments, I really appreciate it. Hope you like this chapter!

Sara and Grissom sat once again in the confession room across the table from a tearful Jake.

Sara leaned forward and spoke to Jake warmly.

"Jake, can you tell me who hurt your mom?"

Jake looked at his knees, his brow furrowed, apparently thinking.

Grissom leaned forward and folded his hands in front of him, speaking to Jake in a reassuring tone that only Gil Grissom can convey.

"Jake… we need to catch this man or he might hurt someone else like he hurt your mommy; I know you're sad because you're not going to be able to see your mommy anymore, and that's not fair, I know, but we can make sure that the man who did this cannot do it again and will be sorry he did it to you."

Under the table Sara grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Jake sniffed and wiped away his tears with the back of his hand.

"Now, can you please tell us who it was that did this to your mom?"

"A shark."

Grissom and Sara's brains processed these two words slowly and then turned to look at each other even slower and wide eyed.

Grissom, Sara and Doc. Robbins stood around the body of Carrie Whiting, lying on a metal slab in the middle of the morgue.

"So, cause of death?" Grissom asked Doc. Robbins, impatiently.

"Well, obviously not the work of a shark, but what it appears to be is a swift cut by a sharp blade, probably a machete of some sort. There isn't much I can tell you without the head but I took nail scrapings and sent them to the lab."

"Why would the kid say a shark did it?"

Doc. Robbins shrugged. "Because he's four? You know what imaginations kids have, and you never know what kind of affect his grief is having on him. Any word on custody arrangements?"

Grissom shook his head. "No. Vic's parents are deceased, she had no siblings; Brass hasn't managed to contact the father's parents yet."

Doc. Robbins sighed "I hope he doesn't end up in foster care – we've seen it happen to too many kids and have it ruin them for the rest of their lives."

Grissom glanced at Sara. "I've known of some odd occasions where the outcome of fostering has been pretty spectacular as well."


	5. Chapter 5

Catherine knocked on the door to Grissom's office.

Grissom looked up for an instant from a report he was doing.

"Come in Catherine."

"Gil, what's this case with the kid and the decapitated mom all about?"

Grissom smiled sadly. "Wish I knew."

"You know this case is sort that just ticks me off, why do cons insist on playing games with us, they should know by now how the rules go: They do the dirty, we find the evidence to pin them, they go to prison."

"If only it were that simple all the time", Grissom mused.

"Whoever did this, scared that kid into telling a whole bunch of cryptic lies…"

Grissom interrupted her. "I'm not so sure they're lies… I think they're clues. You're right Catherine, sometimes criminals do just want to play a game. But sometimes they also accept that they're going to get caught sooner or later… sometimes that's what they want, it gives them more of a rush. I think this guy wants to see us squirm and keep us up nights thinking about what he's done and trying to catch him."

Catherine shook her head. "But why?"

Grissom shrugged. "Because he's a murderer… and he plays by his rules."

Catherine stood from her chair. "I'm going to go see if CODIS has kicked anything out from our fingernail scrapings, see you later Gil."

"Bye."

Catherine paused when she arrived at the door to the break room, staring at the man sitting at the table inside, with his head in his hands.

She walked in slowly at touched him gently on the shoulder.

Warrick jumped slightly in surprise at Catherine's touch.

"Oh hey Cath."

"Hey yourself. How you doing, I hear you've got a pretty tough case going at the moment."

Warrick nodded. "Yeah, I won't lie and say it's not bothering me."

"Kid shows up with an envelope with your name on it? Does this possibly have something to do with some skeletons hanging in your closet?"

Warrick sighed and look and Catherine in the eyes. "I really don't know Catherine. I wish I did."

"Well, I've got some DNA results here from the nail scrapings from your vic."

Warrick's eyebrows lifted, interested. "Hit me."

Catherine chuckled bitterly. "You know it's funny you should say that."

Warrick looked confused. "Why?"

Catherine read from the piece of paper she was holding. "DNA belongs to one Tool Attola-Debbor."

Catherine slid the page over to Warrick, but he didn't have to look at it, he knew who this man was.

His wide eyes met with Catherine's.

"Loan Shark."


	6. Chapter 6

"Warrick?" Catherine raised her eyebrow at Warrick after he had been silent for a minute.

"How do you know this guy?"

Warrick closed his eyes and sighed. "A deal gone bad – ten years ago."

"What kind of deal?" Catherine probed.

Warrick shook his head. "I borrowed a grand from this guy… to pay off some debts. I almost had all the money ready to pay him back and my cousin got sick and needed emergency surgery… we'd been friends my whole life; I had to front him, I wasn't about to let my family die."

Catherine laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, prompting him to continue.

"So I went to this guy, Tool Debbor and told him I didn't have the money and well, you can imagine he wasn't that happy about it – and he's one of these people that, it don't matter how much you promise to get him the money eventually, somehow, he just doesn't accept it. So anyway he came to my place one night and had a pretty good attempt at wasting me up, so I called the police and Debbor was arrested for abuse."

"Oh, now I see why there might be a bit of a grudge there", Catherine grimaced.

Warrick nodded sadly. "Yeah."

Catherine reached over and put her arms around Warrick, he accepted them gratefully. "Warrick, you have to tell Grissom."

"Tell me what?" Grissom's voice sounded from the door.

Catherine and Warrick jumped apart. "Gil, how long have you been standing there?"

Catherine demanded.

Grissom raised an eyebrow at her. "Long enough to not know what I should know, evidently."

Warrick look confused.

"This would be your cue to tell Grissom what you need to Warrick."

Warrick proceeded in telling Grissom his story, while Grissom listened intently.

"Well Warrick, I'm going to have to take you off the case you know that right?"

Warrick banged his fist down on the table, but inhaled slowly to control his anger. "Yeah, I was kinda hoping that wouldn't come up."

Grissom gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry."

Grissom stood up. "Well, I'll see you both later, I'm going to go and talk to Jim and see if he can get a last known address for this guy."

"Ok, thanks Gil."

"Yeah, thanks Griss."

Grissom walked down the corridor just when Sara suddenly appeared at his side.

"Where have you been?" He asked her.

"Home." She said, matter-of -factly. "Unlike you, I require a little time to breathe - away from this place."

Grissom shot her a look. "Well, I'm afraid I shall have to continue living up to your oh so towering expectations, because I've just learned some new info about the case with the little boy and his mom."

Sara looked interested more than annoyed now. "Do tell."

Grissom retold what Warrick had told him about his past with Tool Debbor.

"Wow." Sara said when he was finished. "So, you think this has something to do with Warrick?"

"Yeah maybe even more than it has to do with the actually victim."

Sara frowned. "Well that's a horrible thought."

Grissom nodded.

"So where you off to now?" Sara asked.

"Brass; I'm going to see if I can get any details on this Debbor guy."

"Can I come with?"

Grissom smiled at her. "Of course my dear."

Grissom and Sara walked into Brass's office.

"Good morning Jim." Grissom greeted him.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Brass gave them his signature cheeky smile.

"We were wondering if you could dig anything up on a suspect – Tool Atolla Debbor."

"Tool Atolla Debbor, that's not a real name – sounds familiar to me though, I just don't…."

Brass stopped talking and typing abruptly.

Grissom and Sara glanced at each other. Grissom spoke softly. "Jim?"

Brass turned to Grissom and Sara. "Ah, I do know who this guy is."

"How?" Grissom inquired.

Brass looked up at him and Sara nervously. "About six years ago, I got a call from Ellie saying she needed some help with some legal stuff. She was the accuser in a case of sexual harassment. Some punk had decided to give her a hard time while she was on the… while she was working. He was trialed and convicted and Ellie moved on with her life… until a few months ago when a letter arrived in her mailbox, from him. Simply saying – 'You haven't seen the last of Tool Atolla Debbor.'"

Grissom and Sara looked at each other with their mouths open.

Grissom turned to Brass, shaking his head. "Oh this just keeps getting better."


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey." Grissom stuck his head through the door.

Sara looked up and tried not to grin, he looked like a puppy dog trying to persuade its master to allow it the bone from a piece of meat.

"Hi." She smiled.

Seeing her smile, Grissom felt more comfortable and he moved slowly into the room.

He sat down next to her at the table; her arm was lying on it, stretched out in front of her.

Sara watched her husband intently as Grissom eyed her hand; hesitantly he reached out and took it in his, rubbing it gently with his thumb.

Sara gazed at him dreamily and reached out to stroke his face with her palm.

He sighed lazily and craned his neck forward to rest his forehead on Sara's.

"I'm sorry."

Sara looked into his eyes, studying them. "What for?"

"For jeopardizing my health and happiness. I'm still not use to the notion that I actually have someone to whom both those things matter."

Sara smiled sadly at him. "They do matter to me… you mean the world to me, Gil."

"And you to me." Grissom withdrew his forehead from hers and kissed her lightly on it."

Sara chuckled slightly. "So, did you come here just to suck up to me or have you actually got business to talk about?"

"Yes as a matter of fact I do have business to talk about, we ah, got a call this morning from an elderly woman complaining of a bad odor coming from the house next door… the address just happens to me Tool Debbor's last known."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah… so you wanna go for a little trip?"

Sara smirked. "What's in it for me?"

Grissom rolled his eyes at her. "Ahhh… the company of your loving husband?"

Sara made a thoughtful face. "Hmm, what else?"

Grissom opened his mouth with mock hurt. Sara giggled. "How about Valentino's on the way home?"

Sara's eyes shined. "Deal."

Sara and Grissom approached the front door of a small run-down home in a disorderly neighborhood on the west side of town.

Sara leaned forward and knocked self-assuredly on the door.

Grissom and Sara waited for the sound of faint footsteps to approach the door from inside, but after waiting patiently for more than a minute, they shrugged at each other.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home", Grissom stated the obvious.

Sara sighed. She peered around the side of the shabby house and her brow furrowed.

"Didn't our suspect have a Blue Ford Cortina registered to him?"

Grissom looked at her and then at the car parked in the driveway, exactly the same type of car that Sara had just described.

His eyes narrowed as he walked down the stone steps affront the door and crossed the lawn and over to the driveway where the car was parked.

Sara followed him and then paused and cringed when she reached his side.

Flies were buzzing frantically around the boot of the motor-vehicle.

Grissom unhopefully rattled the lever, to both his and Sara's surprise, it twisted easily.

He glanced warningly at Sara who nodded back at him.

Grissom lifted the lid slowly and he and Sara quickly stood back. Sara smiled to repress the gag reflex as they both stared down into the boot and at the severed head staring back at them. Grissom exhaled slowly at stared at Sara. "Honey…"

Sara smiled at him knowingly. "It's ok, Valentino's can wait."

Grissom nodded appreciatively. "We have to find Tool Debbor."


	8. Chapter 8

Sara stood at her locker, rummaging through her spare clothes, wanting to freshen herself up for the long night she knew lay ahead. She was just considering a dark blue skin-tight top when she felt warmth against her neck

Sara gasped a little in surprise but then relaxed when she recognized the scent of her husband. Her hand reached up and caressed his soft curls, stroking his scalp lightly.

"What have I done to deserve this treatment?" Sara grinned.

Grissom whispered in her ear. "You were far too accepting when I called off our dinner plans."

Sara looked up at him with mock frustration. "Well then I apologize; next time I'll be sure to put up more of a fight."

Grissom looked at her worriedly for a second before he realized she was joking when she flashed him her prize-worthy smirk.

Sara closed her locker and took Grissom's hand in hers, sitting down with him on the bench.

"So, what's happening with the case?"

Grissom sighed. "Oh that", he thought.

"Well", he said. "Ecklie has ordered me to issue a press release on this guy but… I don't know Sara, I just feel like that's exactly what this guy wants… recognition. I'm beginning to feel more and more like this case is just one big set-up."

Sara stared at him. "You still think the woman was killed with no particular malice."

Grissom shook his head. "I think she was just… in the way."

"In the way of what though? The boy?"

"Maybe… I don't know."

Brass poked his head in through the door. "Gil, there you are… you might want to get your butt into gear, a lady who owns a café off Boulder Highway just phoned in with a positive I.D of Tool Debbor, says he was in there this afternoon."

Grissom stood up and was half way out the door when Brass put his hand on Grissom's chest to stop him from going in farther.

"Aren't you forgetting something there pal?"

Grissom looked at him confused. "Huh?"

Brass motioned toward Sara who was still sitting on the bench in the middle of the locker room. "You're lovely wife there; she might want to tag along if you allow her half a chance."

Grissom looked at Sara who beamed at him cheekily. Grissom looked at her and Brass curtly. "Yeah, I know that… come on Sara."

Sara got up and walked over to the door as Grissom walked out of it hastily.

Brass muttered to her as she walked past him. "He should give you a biscuit for that."

Sara smirked at him and followed her husband down the hall.


	9. Chapter 9

Sara sat in the passenger set of the silver Denali, staring out the window, her hair fluttering in the breeze.

Grissom's eyes were focused on the road ahead of him as he drove them further into the heart of the Nevada Desert.

"Only a few miles to go." He told Sara, as if reading her thoughts.

She turned to him and smiled softly. "Hey Gil… what happened to that kid Jake…did they manage to contact any family members?"

Grissom didn't look at Sara when he answered her.

"No… he has no family."

"What do you mean he has no family?" Sara asked despondently.

"His mother was an only child, both of her parents are deceased, his father's mother is dead, his father's father is in a rest home, his father has sister who is mentally retarded, three great-uncles, all killed in Vietnam, two great-aunts, one drowned at thirteen, another dead, as well as her husband, and their son is in prison."

Sara looked at him with his mouth open. "Ok, one: You're very scary… and two: That's terrible." Grissom glanced at her quickly. "Yes it is."

Grissom pushed the door open while the small bell above his head rang out.

He held the door for Sara while she walked in past him and closed it behind both of them.

The pair looked around for a moment at the small Diner which was occupied only by a frizzy haired, plump, middle-aged woman, sitting behind the counter, with her head buried in a magazine and a thin African-American man sweeping the floor.

Grissom gained Sara's attention by placing his hand on her back and then nodded toward the woman at the counter.

Both of them walked forward and Grissom craned his neck toward the woman. She slowly brought the magazine down from her face.

"Hi… can I help you?"

"Are you the woman that called the police an hour ago?"

She set her magazine down on the table top in front of her. "Yeah."

She held up her hand and Grissom and Sara watched her as she stood up and walked into a back room. They stared at each other, confused.

The lady soon waddled back into the room, carrying a brown paper envelope and approached them cautiously.

She leaned toward Grissom and spoke in a whisper, reading from the envelope in her hand. "Are you Dr. Gilbert Grissom?"

Sara and Grissom looked at each other in surprise for a moment before Grissom nodded and reached out and took the envelope from the stout woman's hands…


	10. Chapter 10

Ok, this is the last chapter. I just want to thank all the people who have read this and commented, I'm really glad you liked this. GSR forever!

"Gil, quiet her down." Sara said breathily.

"Yeah ok", Grissom replied, slowing down the vehicle as they approached a steel building, like a smaller version of a warehouse, bang-smack in the middle of the Nevada Desert.

The letter they had been given by the woman at the diner had simply given them directions to this particular place they were now at.

Grissom had called for back up, which was now on standby, a quarter of a mile down the road.

Sara would serve as watch and signalwoman for Grissom.

The couple got out of the Denali and secured their weapons in their belt loops.

Sara and Grissom stood at the head of the bonnet. "Grissom?" Sara gazed at him.

"Ten minutes or a gunshot Sara, alright?"

Sara fought back tears, she was sorry that she'd put Grissom through this grief when she had volunteered to be bait for a killer/rapist, she knew what it felt like now to send the person you love to the waiting arms of a psychopath.

"I love you Gil."

Grissom leaned forward and grabbed her tight, stroking her hair. At that moment he cared not about the watchful eyes of the law enforcement squad behind them, to him at that moment, he and Sara were the only ones there.

"I love you too."

He let her go reluctantly. "Ten minutes", he said.

She nodded and he turned around and signaled to his backup that he was going in.

Grissom walked slowly to the small door of the warehouse and knocked.

"Mr. Grissom", a Brooklyn accent came. "I've been expecting you."

Grissom took that as his signal to enter the building. He pushed the door open ever so slightly, his free hand resting on his hip.

"Tool Debbor?" Grissom questioned the dark room. "Tool ATTOLA Debbor," came the reply. Grissom stepped forward into the dust and his eyes finally rested on a short, shady figure of a man. "Have you been enjoying my little game Mr. Grissom?"

Grissom's eyes narrowed at him as his worse fears were confirmed. It was just a game to him; this was ALL just a game to him.

"Actually, no, I haven't particularly been enjoying it… in fact with a fine enigmatic mind like yours; I do wish we could have met under different circumstances Mr. Debbor."

Debbor sneered at him. "I'm great with games, everybody loves my games. I use to be the games host at a rest home in New York, I had seventy-eight old fogies in the palm of my hand… do you know how much life insurance that is?"

Grissom felt disgusted. Yeah, he knew.

"What did the woman do to you? Nothing right? You just wanted her kid to do be the servant of your dirty deeds; you needed a small child to tell us things that made no sense, that could be mistaken for childlike ignorance, but in fact, he was told every little thing to say, by you. You knew what we would ask him, you knew how this would go, the kid was your little messenger boy, you had no use for his Mom, she was just trying to stop you from taking her son, so you _had_ to kill her. But then in another brilliant flash of inspiration, you decided to set yet another conundrum by cutting off her head and telling the boy to say a shark did it. Leading us on a wild goose chase."

"A wild shark chase", Debbor corrected him.

Grissom blinked. "And all this to get back at some people for a few late payments and a claim leading to a measly two year jail stint?"

Debbor began to fume. "Hey! I was a clean man once upon a time. At one stage, I was doing those rest home gigs out of the goodness of my heart. Then people started screwing me around, and I asked myself – "When is it going to be my turn? When is life going to be good for Tool Attola Debbor?" People should be allowed chances, even your dirty-rotten gambling C.S.I Brown had his second chance, but not me; I never even got my first!" He was breathing heavily now.

Grissom shook his head. "And you thought you'd get it by doing this?"

Debbor began to laugh - at the irony of it Grissom supposed.

"Go people to look at me didn't it, got people to respect me AND resent me."

"You seem to be a rather intelligent man. Why choose to be a loan shark?"

Debbor grinned a toothy, sickly grin. "I hear you're a man who likes a riddle Mr. Grissom." Grissom's brow furrowed.

Debbor continued. "The tool can be found, in its reflection."

Now Grissom was really confused.

Debbor nodded toward the end of the building where yet another small envelope sat propped up against a barrel.

Grissom turned at looked at the envelope.

The next thing that happened became a blur in Grissom's memory as the loud bang of a gunshot echoed through the Warehouse.

Grissom turned back sharply, horrified at himself for letting his guard down, panicked because he thought he was shot. When he could focus again though, he found, he was not wounded at all. What lay in front of him however, was Tool Attola Debbor, dead on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

That night after dealing with a panicked wife and a tumultuous afternoon of fighting his way into CSI through a sea of reporters, Grissom sat at his desk in his office with his head in his hands and a brown envelope in front of him. Grissom sighed and picked it up, tearing it slowly open. Grissom pulled out the piece of paper inside at stared at it, almost unbelievably. It read in bold writing - "All I ever wanted to be known as doing - Tool Attola Debbor." Grissom frowned and recalled what Debbor had said to him earlier. _"The tool can be found in its reflection." _

Grissom thought "Reflection. Reflection…"

Grissom jumped up out of his chair and ran to the other side of the room where he picked up a small mirror. He rushed back to his chair and sat down it, picking up the piece of paper again. He held the mirror slantways against the paper. He read the writing on the paper once more. "Tool Attola Debbor." He shifted his gaze to the mirror and stopped breathing for a moment when he read. "robbeD alottA looT."

THE END.


End file.
